The Spectator, Volume 2. eBook

In the mean time we have fair Warning given us by
this doughty Body of Statesmen: and as Sylla
saw many Marius’s in Caesar, so I think we may
discover many Torcys in this College of Academicians.
Whatever we think of our selves, I am afraid neither
our Smyrna or St. James’s will be a Match for
it. Our Coffee-houses are, indeed, very good Institutions,
but whether or no these our British Schools of Politicks
may furnish out as able Envoys and Secretaries as
an Academy that is set apart for that Purpose, will
deserve our serious Consideration, especially if we
remember that our Country is more famous for producing
Men of Integrity than Statesmen; and that on the contrary,
French Truth and British Policy make a Conspicuous
Figure in NOTHING, as the Earl of Rochester has very
well observed in his admirable Poem upon that Barren
Subject.

L.

* * * *
*

No. 306. Wednesday, February 20, 1712.
Steele.

Quae forma, ut se tibi semper
Imputet?

Juv.

Mr. SPECTATOR, [1]

I write this to communicate to you a Misfortune
which frequently happens, and therefore deserves
a consolatory Discourse on the Subject. I was
within this Half-Year in the Possession of as much
Beauty and as many Lovers as any young Lady in England.
But my Admirers have left me, and I cannot complain
of their Behaviour. I have within that Time
had the Small-Pox; and this Face, which (according
to many amorous Epistles which I have by me) was the
Seat of all that is beautiful in Woman, is now disfigured
with Scars. It goes to the very Soul of me
to speak what I really think of my Face; and tho
I think I did not over-rate my Beauty while I had it,
it has extremely advanc’d in its value with
me now it is lost. There is one Circumstance
which makes my Case very particular; the ugliest Fellow
that ever pretended to me, was and is most in my
Favour, and he treats me at present the most unreasonably.
If you could make him return an Obligation which
he owes me, in liking a Person that is not amiable;—­But
there is, I fear, no Possibility of making Passion
move by the Rules of Reason and Gratitude.
But say what you can to one who has survived her
self, and knows not how to act in a new Being.
My Lovers are at the Feet of my Rivals, my Rivals
are every Day bewailing me, and I cannot enjoy what
I am, by reason of the distracting Reflection upon
what I was. Consider the Woman I was did not die
of old Age, but I was taken off in the Prime of
my Youth, and according to the Course of Nature
may have Forty Years After-Life to come. I have
nothing of my self left which I like, but that I
am, SIR, Your most humble Servant, Parthenissa.

When Lewis of France had lost the Battle of Ramelies,
the Addresses to him at that time were full of his
Fortitude, and they turned his Misfortune to his Glory;